Mr. Van Zeilin went on: "The long plumes grow in the tail and wings, you observe. Now for the nest. As you see, it is merely a huge hole scraped out in the ground."
"One, two, three, four, five, six eggs," counted Tom. "How big they are!"
Tom dropped behind the party presently as they strolled away, but a piercing scream from him suddenly rent the air. His friends turned in consternation, and saw him tearing after them in a panic, the black ostrich in hot pursuit.
Mr. Van Zeilin had barely time to throw himself between the boy and the bird. In another moment he would have been too late, and Tom's cruising around the world would have come to an untimely end. When Mr. Van Zeilin had succeeded in driving off the ostrich, he turned to Tom. "How did it happen?"
"He looked so quiet, I thought there could be no harm in taking another look at the nest. I only just looked in, and he flew at me."
"But your branch—why didn't you use your branch?"
Tom owned up like a man. "To tell the truth, I was so scared, sir, I didn't know what I was about. I threw away my branch."
It was hard to keep from laughing, now that the danger was over. Tom's hair nearly stood on end, his eyes started from their sockets, and his voice shook with fright. His enemy stood eying him for a moment or two at a little distance, then went back with great strides to his nest, over which at that moment was standing a gray ostrich. Black eyed his visitor suspiciously, then angrily.
"These fellows can not endure any approach to their nests," said Mr. Van Zeilin. "Look at him now!"